Outnumbered
by TheWheelWeaves
Summary: Rose, Donna and the TARDIS have a girl's night. Silly, slightly cracky, and fun for everyone!


**A gift fic for WhoLockGal, who needed cheering up during a terrible day of work. I think it's kinda cute...**

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The Doctor looked up from his book in complete bafflement. He had experienced what felt, for all the world, like feminine giggles in his mind coming from his magnificent timeship.

TARDIS did not giggle. They did not smirk or laugh or communicate such primitive emotions as humor in any way. They were temporally evolved creatures that were above such foolishness as emotions and the expression thereof (though not above a bit of arrogance), but The Doctor was quite certain that it was his Ship that had sparkled through his mind, not some passing telepathic creature that had somehow gotten through her defenses.

This bore investigation.

The Doctor made his way to the console room and was greeted by a singular sight. Rose Tyler and Donna Nobel sat in their jimjams with blankets and pillows spread out over the grating at the foot of the time rotor. There were three bottles of what The Doctor recognized as Korvaxian rum- a great favorite of his ginger friend who claimed that it tasted just like a drink she called a "fuzzy navel" but was slightly less powerful so she could drink more of it.

Less powerful than the original drink or not, The Doctor knew that Donna was about five ounces of the stuff away from being completely insensible. The bottle at her side was nearly ¾ gone and she was flushed and laughing.

Rose was holding Donna's right hand in hers and was painting her nails a dull gold colour with the exaggerated care of the tipsy. Her eyes were squinted, her nose wrinkled, and her pink tongue was caught in the corner of her mouth in a way that made The Doctor's thoughts wish to travel into green and pleasant fields.

He forcibly restrained the impulse to fantasize. Rose might no longer be "out of bounds" but it was clear that she was in no mood for his advances. Her own bottle was half empty.

The Doctor's attention was drawn to the last bottle of the rum, which sat on the console and was also half empty. The feel of the TARDIS in his mind was… more unrestrained than he would have expected. Almost as though his brilliant, eleven-dimensional, time-and-space ship were… tipsy.

He felt the TARDIS stab an objection into his mind, but the fact that she even bothered to defend herself seemed to prove his point at that moment.

"It was a national meeting, see. People coming in from all over the country, and the Continent too. France and Germany and… anyway, there were loads of people coming and no one's ready for them, even just a few days before. So they say to me 'Donna, you're not busy, are you?' And I say, 'of course I'm busy, you plum!' But they don't listen, do they? 'Course not. So they say 'here, Donna, make these menus for the big dinner party.' So I do, along with all the other work I've got to do. Then, when they like those, they say, 'oh Donna, you did such a good job on those menus, you should put together these information packets for everyone.' So I do, because I'm a good bloody employee. Then they say 'Donna, you've obviously got time…'"

"Which you obviously don't," Rose interrupted, giggling.

"Obviously," Donna said, taking a swig from her bottle with the hand that wasn't on Rose's lap. "So they say 'you've obviously got time, so why don't you put together the seating charts for the dinner on that last day.'"

"Ugh," Rose groaned. "I helped my cousin Mo with her seating charts for her wedding. Nothing worse."

"Exactly." Donna nodded sagely. "So I do that too, and it's a nightmare. Then they're asking me to put a presentation together for the introduction and I say… What are you doing there?"

"Wha?" Rose asked, but Donna's eyes were not on her, they were on The Doctor.

"Who? Me?" The Doctor asked in shock, brown eyes going wide.

"Of course you, Spaceman!" Donna groused. "This is a girl's night in, Rose, me and the TARDIS. Now you get out, you weren't invited."

"Donna," The Doctor began.

"Out!"

"Are you giving my ship alcohol?"

"Doctor," Rose said with a twist to her mouth that said she thought he was being absurd, "she's older than you are, surely she's old enough for a drink, yeah?"

"It's nothing to do with age!"

"Go away, Spaceman!" Donna cried.

"Go on, Doctor, we won't mess anything up," Rose cajoled.

Even the presence in his mind that represented his ship- his one constant companion for the last 700 (or maybe a few more than that) years was chiding him and pushing him out the door. Finally The Doctor gave in to the feminine influence and left.

What had given him the idea that allowing himself to be outnumbered three to one by women was a good idea?


End file.
